the wind propelled her to a new destination
to a fairytale love quite rare for this wallflower
she severed her roots for this newfound affinity
but aimlessly wandering high above the clouds
the wind settled, as the impulse abated
and she fell into ~nirvana~
The world has moved on and I am fixated on one **** detail. A blank stare that lasted maybe two seconds before he carried on with his work. The look was indescribable because the expression was void of emotion. This is incredibly ridiculous, but I am so horrifically bothered by it. That **** expression. This **** minor occurrence has somehow managed to ruin my day. But here's the thing - this is routine for me. I know myself too well. I will be incredibly self-conscious from now on in that space. So many things go past that man, but my stupid digressions didn't. I am a victim of over-analysis. I will patiently wait for the day my memory will finally let this go.
Am I not meant for love?
Am I an exception to this compulsion?
Did I waste my chances when I had them?
Could I be obsessed with an obsession?
Drop the books.
Forget about this world.
You will die either way.
Ironically situated in the Ministry of Love, these dark, barren walls have rewritten the hope in my heart into verses of wishful demise. This heart is an icebox that has become numb to any whisper of faith. These tear ducts have forgotten the sense of sadness. I welcome the warmth of shackles pinching the skin of my feeble arms. The weeks of misery have culminated into this unspeakable agony. Welcome to Room 101.
My depression translates into artsy poetry.
I am addicted to good writing.